


A Candle in Twilight

by tarnishedpeonies



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, Sweet things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29481762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarnishedpeonies/pseuds/tarnishedpeonies
Summary: Drift agreed to show Rodimus what he learned on Earth. Rodimus thought this would be a different lesson.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	A Candle in Twilight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WispExMachina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WispExMachina/gifts).



“It kind of pinches, doesn’t it?” Rodimus shifted, trying to find the balance between discomfort and correct posture as his lines narrowed with a squeeze. He knew his pedes would be sluggish when he tried to stand, just like last time. “How do you do that?” Drift had been sitting like this since Rodimus came in and there hadn’t been any squirming or complaints!

“Practice,” Drift replied with a smile. “There are stretches and exercises you can do to help. It takes time of course,” to which Rodimus made a face. “But I can go over them with you if you like. A little at a time.”

Reaching to rub the back of his helmet, Rodimus shook his head. “You know when I asked you to show me what you learned on Earth I didn’t think there’d be so much - uh. Sitting.” Stillness. Waiting. Inactivity. “I thought there’d be a lot more of, you know, whoosh-clash-bang!” Approximating some sword cuts through the air between them with a grin, Rodimus watched Drift’s opticss go wide. The silence drew out and Rodimus immediately felt uncomfortable. “I mean didn’t you learn some of that there too?”

Drift’s optics lidded lightly as he looked down at the floor between them. “Some. But by the time I came to Earth most of my combat programming was deeply ingrained. What I learned was techniques and a different style, more than learning one new school of fighting. I’m sorry, does that disappoint you?” Drift’s optics lit back up to Rodimus.

“Yes. No! Wait,” Rodimus held his hands up. “I mean that, I had different expectations when I asked you to teach me what you learned there. I don’t do very well with holding still all the time,” which Rodimus _knew_ Drift knew, but his request had been broadly worded. “Can I just sit on my aft please?”

Laughing, Drift nodded, and joined Rodimus in shifting his legs and pedes until they were in front of the mecha instead of beneath. “Could I interest you in some poetry then?” Rodimus knew he made a face before he could stop it, and Drift laughed again; it was a beautiful sound, and Rodimus’ look didn’t stop Drift from coming to sit beside him. He shifted them both to look out the viewport, over the vast light show of space. “It’ll be fun, I promise. Now, try to imagine,”

“This would be so much easier in the holo-bay,” Rodimus interrupted.

“ _Try_ ,” Drift stressed again, “to imagine that you’re there, on Earth. A broad field of wild, golden-brown wheat edged by distant forests. A gentle, warm breeze shifting over the grains. You, dressed in traditional fashions, walking a road through the walls of wheat. Imagine, gently plucked strings in the distance, spare but beautiful.”

Rodimus shifted, off-lining his optics so the images didn’t clash. “Me, or my holomatter avatar?” He’d look kind of funny in all that fabric, wouldn’t he? A little illicit, even…which made it a welcoming thought, but Rodimus had difficulty imagining the mechanics. Wouldn’t the layers get stuck in his joints? Weren’t they a little _small_?

“For the purposes of this, it isn’t important. Whichever is easier for you.”

Seeing the challenge for what it was, Rodimus took a moment longer to _try_. If the cloth was sized big enough, it could fit. He’d seen plenty of images of the types of clothing Drift referenced, and he’d seen plenty of the places Drift had traveled in stills and shorts. He could do this. Rodimus’ frame relaxed, his processor melting into the image. Drift communicated acknowledgment of the moment with a squeeze on Rodimus’ shoulder.

“Good job, Rodimus.” A twinge of pleasant charge made Rodimus sit up straighter. He had done a good job, and it hadn’t been easy! “Now, hold onto that image of you,” wait, there was more? “And let your processor build to the words into a world around you.” Of course there was more. “Ready?”

Nodding, Rodimus felt the words before he imagined them. “I write, erase, rewrite. I erase again, and then - A poppy blooms.” Shadowed at first, Rodimus gained clarity in the scene when the poppy ‘bloomed’ in Drift’s sentence. A little red flower, at the edge of a wooden porch where he sat on the other side of a door frame, frustrated crumples of paper scattered around him. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, even if Rodimus had never felt it while writing; usually Ultra Magnus did the writing. Rodimus usually felt it trying to compose himself for events.

The feeling didn’t last long: his entire image shifted again with Drift’s next words. “Over the wintry - forest, winds howl in rage. With no leaves to blow.” The poppy and remainder of the outside world blanketed in deep snow. Angry, lashing wisps of white flakes snapped through the night, with the naked crooks and knobs of trees menacing a dark sky with a wind-whipped dance.

He must have shivered. Drift’s hand squeezed his shoulder, then moved underneath Rodimus’ hand, fingers twining as he gave it a squeeze. Suddenly Drift was there in the world he had built, watching the terrifying winter world beside him. Drift was clearer than any of the scenery, even his own visualization of himself felt shadowy in comparison. A base layer of white, dressed in a deep purple that was woven with patterns in a lighter blue. The belt holding everything together was grey, stamped in with white designs. It was easy to feel how beautiful the weave and design was, and how handsome Drift looked in it.

“The light of a candle, is transferred to another candle- Spring twilight,” Drift whispered in his audial, leg sliding close to press against Rodimus’ as the visualization shifted a final time. Reds, yellows, and pinks filled the fading day, previously naked branches dotted in tiny leaf nubs. Some snow remained, but the poppy had gone. On the porch hung a lantern, bringing a golden glow to the the dim yard.

Rodimus’ hand squeezed Drift’s, leaning closer still. “What’s this lesson? And don’t tell me poetry,” he was certain poets didn’t require their audiences to imagine their words so vividly!

Drift’s free hand reached across their laps to occupy Rodimus’ other hand. “Guided meditation,” he admitted, shifting until their helmets rested together. “A way to move you without - moving you,” he laughed. “And also a way to keep your processor fresh and flexible. Did you like it?”

“I still think it would have been easier in the holo-bay,” Rodimus admitted, finally on-lining his optics and looking down where all their hands were twined. The image in his processor didn’t fade immediately, and he felt relief at the change of pace: Drift was always handsome, but seeing him like this, in the faded memory of beautiful cloth, felt different. Amazing. Getting to share a piece of Drift’s own experiences, from his perspective. “Were they human poets?”

“Of course,” Drift agreed,” nudging their helms together in a nuzzle. “Although I didn’t get to meet them. Just read their work.”

Rodimus relaxed more. “You should write poetry sometime. I would read it. I wouldn’t even share it with anyone else unless you wanted me to,” he promised. “Even if you don’t, though,” his processor caught on the next words, a rare instance of thinking before he spoke. “I’d like to do guided poetic meditation again sometime. If that’s all right.” It wasn’t what he’d expected, and the deeper connection with Drift was a bonus.

Drift’s hands squeezed Rodimus’ in response. “If it means we get to spend more time together, and continue these little lessons you’re coming to love so much,” okay now Drift was just teasing him, “I’m more than happy to do exactly that. Thank you, Rodmius.”

“For what?”

Pulling his helmet away from Rodimus’, Drift looked at him until Rodimus met his gaze. “For your involvement. For listening. For having a care.” It wasn’t a kiss when their forehelms touched; somehow, it meant more to Rodimus.

**Author's Note:**

> Here is credit to the haiku, in the order they are presented in the piece:  
> “A Poppy Blooms” by Katsushika Hokusai  
> “Over the Wintry” by Natsume Sōseki  
> “Lighting One Candle” by Yosa Buson


End file.
